


Why not?

by greenapricot



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenapricot/pseuds/greenapricot
Summary: It’s probably good that George hadn’t noticed how distracting Box was before now. They have to work together. But it’s Friday night, that’ll be Monday morning George’s problem.
Relationships: Max DeBryn/Endeavour Morse, Ronnie Box/George Fancy
Comments: 14
Kudos: 21





	Why not?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iloveyoudie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/gifts).



> I didn’t intend to jump on this train but here I am. It's iloveyoudie's fault I'm sure.

“Morse and DeBryn,” Box says with a scowl, like he’s got something foul stuck on the bottom of his shoe. He slides into the chair across from George. 

George didn’t invite him to sit, but he can’t really tell a superior officer he was trying to pull the cute blond at the next table and could he please piss off. The blond, who’s been smiling at him off and on for the past ten minutes, turns away.

“Yeah?” George says, even though he doesn’t really want to think about it. 

They all came out after work (Jim’s birthday, though Jim is long gone by now) so this whole thing is still kind of work. Only with beer. Which is an improvement. But it’s not like he can just blank Box. 

There goes Morse now, carrying two pints on his way back to the booth he and DeBryn have been sharing since they all got here. George doesn’t really mean to watch him, but the look on his face when he gets to the table and plunks the pints down isn’t very subtle. It’s the same look Morse gives DeBryn while he’s going over postmortem results. Gross. George isn’t against PDA but he is against PDA that involves Morse. He turns back to his beer and Box who’s still sitting across from him for some reason.

“DeBryn’s an odd one,” Box says, sipping his beer. He looks thoughtful. “But he’s not a bad sort. Morse must be an amazing fuck to be worth all the shite. Doesn’t seem right, that scrawny arsehole being that good of a lay.”

George almost chokes on his beer. It’s not that he’s offended by Box’s language or anything, it’s just unexpected from, well, his boss kind of.

“Didn’t offend your delicate sensibilities, did I?” Box says, reaching his very long arm across the table to pat George on the back. Then he smirks. “Not meant to inhale the ale.” 

“Thanks,” George says, distracted by Box’s warm hand on his shoulder. Box’s very large warm hand. “Um, I mean no. Just swallowed wrong.” But now he’s thinking about Box thinking about Morse and DeBryn fucking. Which is not helpful. He glances back over his shoulder. Morse and DeBryn are still in their booth looking at something on DeBryn’s phone, unaware of Box judging their sex life. Though it would be kind of hilarious to see the look on Morse’s face if he knew. 

Box’s phone beeps and he pulls his hand away from George, looking at the screen and frowning before stuffing it in his trouser pocket. Which involves a lot of tilting his hips and stretching out his left leg so George has a full and unobstructed view of his muscular thigh. In his very tight trousers. What are they even made of to hug his thighs like that and still allow him to move? He wonders if they feel soft. George takes another sip of beer and mostly doesn’t choke on it this time. 

“Don’t look now,” Box says, looking over George’s shoulder. “But someone’s gettin’ laid tonight.” George looks, catching a glimpse of Morse leaning in close to DeBryn (he could be that pissed or he could be going in for a kiss. It’s very… intimate) before Box’s hand grips his jaw and turns him back around to face him. “I said don’t look. It’s disgusting.”

George swallows. Box may or may not be looking at George’s lips. His hand feels even bigger now it’s cupping George’s chin and jaw. Box smirks and slides his fingers along George’s jaw, then picks up his pint and downs what’s left of it. George can’t tear his eyes away from the way his throat moves as he swallows. He has the sudden urge to climb over the table and lick him. It’s probably good that George hadn’t noticed how distracting Box was before now. They have to work together. But it’s Friday night, that’ll be Monday morning George’s problem.

Box puts his empty pint down on the table with a clunk. “Want to get out of here? Somewhere with a better view?” 

That sounds like a pickup line. Is it a pickup line? George decides he doesn’t care. There’s still time before last orders but another pint doesn’t seem like that great of an idea knowing what’s going on behind him. And he doesn’t really want to go back to his shitty flat by himself on a Friday night. It wouldn’t be right, Morse getting some and him not. 

“Why not?” George says, trying to sound as casual as Box looks. 

Box points at George’s half-full pint. “Don’t let that go to waste,” he says, gruff, like he’s giving an order. George’s stomach does a little flip. That’s going to make things interesting for Monday George. But fuck that guy (hopefully literally). 

George downs his pint, not nearly as gracefully as Box. He definitely checks out Box’s arse as he follows him out the door. 

_____


End file.
